


Suspiria

by anniesburg



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blindfolds, Choking, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Multiple Orgasms, One Shot, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Terrible People Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 21:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniesburg/pseuds/anniesburg
Summary: Set a decade before the prologue, Count Lucio invites a virtuoso of deceit to consider him as a source of entertainment in the grace period between conquests.





	Suspiria

**Author's Note:**

> this whole thing is largely inspired by dangerous liaisons and was just an excuse to explore lucio's characterization should it be relevant to future projects. i hope you like it!!!

He manages to flout any real cunning with impunity of his own making. If Lucio had any idea just how loudly people laugh at him the whole city would be ablaze in minutes.

The fire would reach you, of course, finally. Your ability to run circles around his intellect notwithstanding, you have to admire his fortitude. He’s relentless in his pursuit of abstract concepts, be it power or comfort. If only his bravery was born of selflessness, he might do something right one day. How good it is, then, for you, that it is not.

Cutting deals with a colourful array of chaos agents is one thing, making sure they’re raw enough to keep all of one’s limbs is wholly another. As if to illustrate this point, Lucio motions at you with his prosthetic in a way that’s he fails to understand as threatening.

“How goes the seduction?” He loudly declares to the empty salon. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Half-lying on the sofa with your hands folded on your stomach, you watch him flounce into your line of sight. 

“Swimmingly, provided that a certain party remembers to keep his voice down.” You snap with a pointed look. Lucio sneers. 

“It seems like a waste of energy,” he says, “a direct approach does the trick for me. You simply walk up to the prospect and state your intentions.” Lucio is not in the practice of wanting what he should not have. His ego won’t allow him to consider that something may be barred for him. You, however---

You sit up an inch, removing your feet from the cushion and tucking your knees up to your chest. The count gets the idea, he walks over to the sofa and sits heavily beside you. His golden arm makes a confrontational noise when it’s set on the armrest.

“Not everything needs to be a public conquest,” you chime. You’ve long since mastered the way to make your voice sound as inoffensive as possible. He’s not going to hurt you, but one must be so careful these days. 

“Yes it does,” he replies so matter-of-factly. You scoff and smile. “why shouldn’t it?”

“The burden of proof lies with you this time, your Excellency.” Turning your eyes out towards the empty salon, you wonder at how long he can stand being out of someone’s line of sight. 

“It isn’t up to me to keep you from exhausting yourself,” he says, sounding curt. “why chase after Lord Who-Really-Cares or Lady What’s-Her-Face?” His voice changes very suddenly during the pause in his sentence, Lucio sounds sincere--- how troubling. “You could have anyone.” 

“Anyone is boring, Count, hence my games.” You can feel him wilting with no one to witness his splendour. You look at him and smile in a way he finds unnerving. “I never thought I’d see the day where you were wholly uninterested in the details.”

He moves his prosthetic, lifting his left leg and hooking it over the armrest. Lucio leans, bodily, in your direction and ends up with his head pressed to your shoulder. You turn in your seat, just a fraction towards him to accommodate. You put your arm around him.

“Regale me,” he says. 

“There’s a man I have my eye on,” you begin with a start, smiling down at the count. “he’s something of a mercantile rival with a monopoly over the spice trade out of Milova.”

“Yes, yes, get to the seduction,” Lucio waves a hand as if to insist you pick up the pace of your storytelling. You huff.

“Well, he’s fully aware of the fact that I am his competition, my ships are much faster. But he has the trust of every investor in Vesuvia. My aim is to meet, befriend and convince my rival to enter a partnership with me despite his true talent for business and full knowledge of my exploits.” Lucio snorts. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to kill him?” He asks, purposefully facetious to get a rise out of you. You lift a hand and sink it into his hair, absent-mindedly petting. He falls silent, sated by the contact and unwilling to say anything more that may change it. 

“My sweet Lucio,” you say with a tactical dismissal of formality, “I haven’t the slightest interest in death.” Thankfully he fails to chime in and remind you that’s what he has most interest in. “I wasn’t born for a battlefield, no. But I have the unique constitution for domination.” 

Your voice drops in volume as you explain this to him, watching his eyelids momentarily hide silver irises and bone-white sclera. They snap open soon after closing. His smirk is poison.

“Lucky merchant, whoever he is.” He stares up at you with that cautious respect you’re so fond of. He can’t understand why you do what you do, but he does enjoy hearing of it. 

“I doubt he’ll see it that way, considering I intend to absorb his portion of the profit when the next shipment comes in. I’ll have a few months, give or take for him to unofficially merge his ventures with my own. Would you like to place a bet?” Lucio pushing back against you just a touch, lifting his shoulders and chin towards you.

“No, I don’t think so.” His oily smirk remains and your hair moves from his hair to his warm cheek. “You’ve never missed your mark.” 

“You flatter me,” you say, making your voice sound more like a coo than real words. It’s always been very effective. “it’s all in the distillation of information, your Excellency. If I want a man, he’s mine and if he tries to tell he finds he can’t. And it makes for quite a story.”

Lucio turns his face towards your hand, a telltale sign of some lingering fascination with intimacy. He’s dreadful at reciprocating, but so wholly dependent on it. It’s charming in this mid-afternoon light.

“Is that our story, do you think?” His eyes close again, out of habit in the face of indulgence. You explore the sharp angles of his cheeks with the pads of your fingers, careful not to smudge any makeup. Before you can reply, you have him sighing. 

“My self esteem does not demand your ruin as a war prize, no.” You say. His brow furrows for a fraction of a second. Leaning over him, you press a kiss to his forehead. “But you know that I want you.” 

You expected not to get away with saying that. An admission of attraction is usually flaunted by him, paraded like yet another victorious battle. He doesn’t look at you, choosing instead to bypass reading the expression that accompanies what he wants to hear. You don’t let him go, Lucio must find that encouraging.

“You make it sound like I haven’t pursued you,” he sounds partially annoyed but the roughness in his voice is easily remedied with the proper attentions. He’s too much of a fool for physical contact. 

“Lucio, you command armies.” You say with an air of suspense that makes him shiver underneath his suit. He’s so giving with his reactions, it’s almost unfair. “Could you handle single combat?”

You’re given a better view of his face very suddenly. Lucio sits up with a start, rounding on you and maintaining that unlikely closeness. When he’s upright, you’re almost on equal footing.

“Oh, I could, if you could handle another lover.” He sounds purposefully confrontational, he wants to see your eyes flash with thinly-veiled distaste. You restrain yourself, prompting him to ask, “You do only have the one right now?” 

“Hm, yes.” You reply, keeping your voice even. “But you think I’d take another at your request? Is that what you’re hoping?” It is and he employs that same, simple tactic he often encourages of you.

“Only if it’s me.” He declares, taking on a forward lean that he expects you to shrink away from. You don’t and you end up so terribly close to him. 

“It seems we have very different analogies to apply to this relationship,” you say. You watch his eyes drift to your lips, almost lazily with no shame to speak of. Letting out a soft, sigh, you lift your now-unoccupied hands and set them on his shoulders. 

It would be wasteful of you to keep them there. Your cold palms press into his skin, moving inward and upward slowly but with no pauses. For a brief, pleasurable moment your hands are wrapped around his throat.

But you don’t allow yourself to stop, refusing to allow him to control your desires. To grip his neck and squeeze would be needlessly indulgent and serve no one but him. It’ll happen when it’s a useful bargaining chip.

So, on you move. Your fingers fit at the sharp curve of his jaw, you hold his cheeks in your hands and brush your thumbs over the jutting bone that holds up his eyes.

With a remarkable swiftness, your hands move to grip his hair. It’s easy enough to catch him off-guard, he’s gone a little slack under your ministrations. But Lucio’s dragged back to a solid reality with a hiss as you seize the back of his head. With a tug, you expose his neck.

“Sometimes I can’t help but adore you,” Lucio bares his teeth as you speak in the mockery of a smile. It’s threatening but hollow, you’ve come this close before shrinking back and he’s always let you. 

The depths of his immaturity are unfathomable but you can commend him at the very least for refusing to chase the ones who run away. He’s uniquely able to take comfort in what he has before seeking more.

You don’t feel like running at the moment, like lying and coaxing from someone a confession of love to add to your growing collection. Lucio desires what you can do for him, as you desire what he might do in return.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” he sounds upset, volatile but unmoving. He knows what he likes, strength and pride. You have enough to crush his ego under the heel of your shoe. 

“Funny?” You ask, leaning in and pressing your red lips to his sensitive muscles that run from jaw to shoulder. He sighs as you kiss him, refusing to bite or wound the way he boasts about. Lucio seeks to coax blood from any body part you let him get too close to. 

But with his head tugged harshly to the side and cold lips kissing along the side of his neck he’s relatively harmless. He’s content to sink into the sensation and allow you to revolve around him. You permit this, he won’t have much of a chance do so very soon.

“I would say generous,” it’s whispered in his ear before a searing kiss is pressed just behind. Lucio shivers again and it’s divinity. 

You have no preference for position in truth, but you possess something of a sixth sense that allows you to seek out those who do. In your vast experience you’ve discovered that men are prettiest underneath others. The fact that the count is inclined to agree, at least bodily, is very agreeable.

Reclaiming the space he sought to take up is easy enough. A heavy, metal prosthetic tucks itself around your waist, as does his warm arm. Lucio pulls you tight against him and you lean against his chest with more force than he used. It takes almost nothing to push him back onto the sofa, to get him sprawled out beneath you.

“Have you ever done this before?” You ask him, lifting your head enough to look him in the eye. You release fistfuls of his hair and return to the more gentle act of petting. Before he can answer, you dip your head and steal a quick and much more traditional kiss. To his credit, he doesn’t sputter. 

“Yes,” he says, “with Noddy. She’s---” you smile very slowly and his sentence dies at the sight. He visibly swallows.

“She knows how you like it?” He nods, your smile persists. “And she gives it to you?” Lucio shakes his head. 

“How fortunate for you, your Excellency, that she and I are different in that way.” Your fingers leave his hair just as his eyes widen. Your tone implies a promise to that just as you wrap a hand around the throat you’ve been doting on.

He doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t recoil. A long sigh leaves him instead, one that has your insides squirming. You’ve yet to apply any pressure, just as before and after a moment of this his behaviour takes a turn for petulant.

“I want to know what you like,” you say with a little less bite. The hand not occupying his neck brushes his gold hair away from his forehead. “I did tell you about my fondness for domination. How does that sound?” 

“Good, very good,” he replies. You wouldn’t get his attention any other way. Without another word, you tighten your grip on his throat. Lucio makes a noise like a whine. 

“Like so?” You wait for his affirmation, sensing from the start that you’ve struck gold. 

“Absolutely, yes,” his voice is still strong and sure. It makes your smile take a sharp turn towards something genuine and unfamiliar. You squeeze a little tighter, repositioning yourself across his chest. 

Your posture is perfect, straddling his abdomen with your gown hiked up to your knees. There’s barely enough room on the sofa like this, but you’ve made do with less.

“Look at you,” you say with a suspicious reverence. “a man to be reckoned with.”

“You’re right, I am,” he contests with little thought given to if the compliment was intended as such. You keep him pinned. Lucio sees fit to remind you what he’s capable of without so much as a warning or another word.

He’s strong, battle-hardened and his grip around your waist makes its presence known. Lucio pulls himself up, making you squeak in surprise and loosen your hold on him. He grins, teeth bared and you wonder for a moment if he intends to press you back against the furniture instead.

That isn’t what he’s after.

You really shouldn’t be surprised given his flair for the dramatic. He wants badly to submit, to take what you give him with plenty of complaining. But you’ve underestimated him, he might even wonder if you laugh at him too. But you’re not laughing, you’re staring with wide eyes and hitched breath.

He’s lifted you up, he can drop you just as easily. With no gentleness to speak of, Lucio angles your hips so they’re flush with his own. He spreads his legs a bit underneath you and you feel the beginnings of an admittedly impressive erection stirring.

His prosthetic digs into you, all spikes and cruelty with sharp talons at the ends. You give him your soft gasp of pain when he sinks his fingers into the flesh of your back. It’s what he wanted and he loosens his grip before he can break the skin.

With a haughty huff, Lucio reclines back on the sofa, folding his arms behind his head as if daring you to continue your good work.

“So, you like playing games?” You ask, it’s intended to be rhetorical but he’s never listened to you in his life. 

“You should know that by now, certainly.” He replies, you give him a glare from on high.

Part of you knows that his fervour is the crux of his charm. It’s what has you reaching down between your hips, nearly melded to his to explore what he wanted you to notice.

He’s hard, at least partially and the outline juts prettily from under the fabric of his trousers. You touch him slowly, just barely brushing his arousal with your fingers. Lucio stiffens, his eyes closing again before he settles. He relaxes but continues to keep his hands to himself. You’re impressed with that.

The fun ends before you can impart any real pleasure, of course. Taking your hand away results in a delicious whimper tugged from his throat before he can stop himself. You stand up, untangling yourself from his spread legs and flouncing off behind the sofa.

“No---” Lucio gasps and sits up, watching you over the back of the sofa. You can’t help your expression of disappointment as you try to push him down again. The second kiss of your coupling helps to soften the blow of your sudden departure.

“I’ll just be a minute,” you assure him with a tone so foreign and gentle that you nearly die of shame on the spot.

“Are we going upstairs?” He asks with such a dazed expression that you can’t help but laugh. 

“Goodness, no. I’m going to fuck you right here in the salon, and you won’t be allowed to make a sound. That’s all I’ll need from you today.” You tell him, he’s reluctant to return to his former position but perhaps Lucio’s shock at your words does the trick.

“Oh,” he lies back down with a soft thud. “that’s all?” You lean in again, a more involved process this time with a sharper angle. Kisses are usually more equally dispersed than this, but for him you’re willing to be a bit softhearted. 

“I’m sure you’re very busy, as am I. I would hate to keep you from your languishing. Stay right there, close your eyes until I say otherwise and keep your hands to yourself.” He has his orders and from what little you can see as you step away, he follows them. 

It doesn’t stop him grumbling the whole time.

You don’t go very far, turning your back to the sofa just a few paces from it. Setting about undressing is made slightly more difficult by his noises of frustration. But you’re much more comfortable with outer layers shed, finding security in your own skin.

There’s complaint from the sofa, the heavy scraping of his gold fingers against the floor but nothing implying you desperately need to hurry. Nothing you can’t ignore, anyway.

You step out of the circle of your gown, crumpled in a heap on the floor. After a moment of hesitation, you bend at the waist to pick up your sash before sauntering back to the frustrated count.

He’s very pointedly obeyed you, sensing your presence above him as you fold your arms on top of the gilding and peer over the edge. Lucio’s handsome, his eyes shut tight with his arm thrown over his face.

His desire is as intense as when you left him and you watch with a little smile as he rolls his hips upward against the air.

“You’ll wear yourself out, sweet boy.” You say with an amused edge that he does not appreciate. “And then we won’t have any fun,” 

“Then enough teasing!” He insists. With a start, he takes his arm away from his face and opens his eyes to glare at you. 

“Hm,” you say. His lids are shadowed with red and they very pointedly widen as Lucio realizes his mistake. He shuts them again, almost immediately but the damage is done.

“I--- I---” he stutters, “you were taking too long, please---” his panic is cut off by the sound of your icy laugh. 

You more than adore him in this moment, with his desire to submit stemming from somewhere selfish. But the desire is completely unmistakable and you’re pleased with it against your better judgement. He’s awful and he satisfies you. Despite his flaws and your complaints, you’re enjoying this.

“Lucio, really,” you begin. He presses his palm to his eyes. “You know better,” he begins to say something else, to agree. You cut him off before he can accuse you of error again, you want to have fun this afternoon. “Beg,” 

“Please, I---” he’s prepared to launch himself into an impassioned speech, you admire his enthusiasm. As nice as it would be to hear, you’re laughing again before you can stop yourself. 

“You don’t even know what I would like you to beg for, silly boy,” you chime, standing upright and moving around the sofa. You kneel at the armrest, just behind his head. 

“What,” he starts. 

“I have in my hand, don’t look, there’s a good boy---” his eyes stay shut tight, “I have something from my dress that will make a very effective blindfold, Lucio. Beg for it.” To your delight, he complies. 

You’re given what you imagine is the same, passionate speech. The difference lies in specificity, but he’s clearly had practice with talking his way into favourable situations. Nadia’s done a lovely job with him.

“Yes, yes,” you say, pulling his hand from his eyes with a necessary gentleness. “I’m fully aware now of how much you’re in need, I think. Lift your head.” He does so and you cover his eyes with the sash, tying a bow at the back of his head. 

“I can’t see anything,” he tells you without any prompting. You give his shoulder a gentle pat. 

“Good. Now, you’re going to keep your hands out of the way while I have my fun. You’ve made quite a bit of noise thus far, any more of a significant pitch and I won’t hesitate to leave you wanting.” You do enjoy the sounds of a debauched moan, but he could use a proper challenge. 

He’s quick to learn, failing to reply. Instead, he only nods.

“But if you tell me to stop,” you say. Your hand still rests on his shoulder, “I will. That’s a promise, your Excellency. Shall I begin?” 

Another nod, you’re content with that. Standing again, you circumnavigate the sofa one last time before settling yourself atop his spread thighs.

Lucio’s quick to move his hands behind his head, unwilling to jeopardize his orgasm. You can almost smell the anticipation on him, it’s delicious.

The ache between your thighs has been ever-present through your disrobing but it’s no longer something that can be ignored. Teasing him is delightful, but a woman has her needs.

And his cock is very pretty. So too is the sound that escapes from behind clenched teeth when you take it in hand.

You imagine he’s very proud of this, of his seven inches and the blond curls the base is nestled in.

“Obviously, you’re still not to touch yourself,” you inform him. He nods for a third time, his head wobbling up and down. It denotes something deeper than frustration, desperation. It looks lovely on him. “and if you come before I say, I will consider you a terribly disappointing lover.”

You almost miss your ability to command his lustful gaze as you lift your hips and sink down onto that

He groans when you sit yourself on him, taking him to the hilt in a single act that’s able to knock the breath from you quite effectively.

“Oh, goodness,” you sigh. Lucio smirks again. 

“Good?” He asks, clearly forgetting the parameters of your orders. Nevertheless, you voice your agreement. “I’ve been told---”

“That’s enough,” you interrupt, placing your hand over his mouth until he falls silent. “I can imagine exactly what you’ve been told. Your cock feels nice, sweet boy. Let’s hear no more about it.” 

Instead, you resolve to prove through action what he does to you. Before long, you’re setting a flame-slow pace. The heat is overwhelming.

You lean towards him, one hand wrapping around his throat in a familiar way. Lucio mumbles quiet encouragement, you decide that suits you fine.

It’s easier than you anticipate to give him pleasure as you take it so fiercely. You bring yourself to the brink with his cock in you and your middle finger circling your clit. You come with a delicate cry and are momentarily lost in a blistering orgasm.

You grip Lucio’s throat tightly, relying on muscle memory to know where to apply pressure. You’re careful not to crush his windpipe in spite of the barrage of sensations. The intensity of the numb, pricking feeling in your lower stomach and legs ebbs enough to grant you focus.

He doesn’t give you long to recover and you lack the patience to reprimand him for moving. Lucio lifts his hips, rocking into you at a much faster pace than you previously allowed. But it feels lovely, you meet him halfway and press your pelvis into his.

The bones of his hips strike yours like chips of flint, intent on creating something warm and destructive. You’re sure he’ll have five bruises in the shape of fingerprints by tomorrow.

That thought pushes you to a second climax faster than you’re comfortable with. And then a third. You’re tempted to end the coupling at that if it will erase the half of his smug impressing you’re able to see beneath the blindfold.

There is no shortage praise whispered softly near his ear while his brain is addled. You allow him to breathe at extremely regular intervals, but it’s the sound of his name said to the hollow of his throat that makes him shake like a leaf.

You unbutton the front of his suit jacket, running your fingers across his bare chest and feeling for his beating heart. It’s comforting to know he has one.

Tired and spent after three, glorious finale’s, you remove him from your person. Sitting back again on the sofa, you press your cheek to the gilding that runs above the backing cushion. Your breaths come hard and fast, peppered with declarations about a whole manner of things that are too embarrassing to repeat.

Lucio’s too wrapped up in himself to savour the fact that he has power over you. His cock is hard as a stone, straining in the air and waiting for your next whim. He, however, is not. He insists he can’t take much more and you decide to believe him.

“Shh,” you whisper through his chorus of heated insistence that he’ll die if you deny him further. “all right, all right. Let me help---”

It’s all he needs to hear. Luio’s theatrical flair, while subdued in volume, meets a swift end as you take him in hand again. You reach out, intending to grip that slender neck again but instead find your palm confronted with the steady thumping present at the centre of his chest.

You seek nothing beyond that, stroking him in a way that will satisfy. He’s been good, not perfect, but good enough to earn this.

With the way he carries on, someone naive might have thought him actually close to death. He sputters, spits your name like a curse along with a few terrible words. His hands clench and unclench. And then it’s done, he comes on his exposed chest.

You’re sure he’ll thank you for sparing his favourite outfit when the fog clears from his mind. But for the immediate moments after, he’s drained of all energy. Lucio’s relaxes on a macro scale, his body going limp as you coax him through his reward.

He’s shaking again, his head tilted back. And then he goes still.

“Are you all right, sweet boy?” You offer up, nearly certain that it’s the last time in this conversation you’ll call him that. After a tense pause, he lifts his head.

“Was it good for you?” He can’t see your mocking smile, so you reach forward and tug the blindfold down his face. Lucio blinks as the light comes shining in his eyes. 

“I enjoyed myself thoroughly,” you say. He swallows and pushes himself up with an unsteady arm. 

“Thought so,” he replies. “enough to do it again some time?” 

“I could be persuaded,” you shrug. But when the count’s tucked himself away in his trousers and begins to lean bodily towards you, you find yourself unable to be lukewarm in response. 

You’re back where you started, you suppose. But Lucio’s cheek is to your bare breast and your hand is invariably drawn again to the heart that beats rapidly against his ribcage.


End file.
